Alice Cullen: When I was human
by Crimson Magenta
Summary: When Cynthia got hit by a machine that Alice predicted would happen, she is whisked to an asylum,which turns out to be her doom. The story of Alice Cullen's past
1. Chapter 1

Punished

Cynthia.

She was hit.

She saved my life.

No.

"Cynthia!!!" I screamed. She looked exactly like me in the vision, bloody, impaled, someone who was going to die. I immediately dropped to my knees, and started to sob, taking Cynthia's place in the vision, my mother was behind me, yelling, she had saw everything. The doctors and police arrived in a few minutes, seeing Cynthia's condition, they just straight out told my Mom she was dead.

Mother was going to kill me for this.

She grabbed a fistful of my shoulder length black hair and pulled me up toward her.

"You crazy girl!!!" " What am I going to do with you? Oh that's right your punishment!!!"

Punishment?

I didn't think that would happen, I thought she was going to make me die, drown me or something, not punish me. That couldn't be the reason.

From the start, I knew mother hated me, she wanted me to die every day of her life, but didn't because father was there. When he became ill, Mother could have done away with me on the spot. Again, she spared my life. I found the reason a few days ago.

It was Cynthia.

She cared about her, she wanted Cynthia to have a playmate and friend. Cynthia never made a lot of friends, she was always alone. I was her only hope to make a friend and now that she was gone, mother had no use for me anymore, I was to die one day, but why would she go with this diseision?

"Your off to the Asylum!!"

I didn't know what she meant, I had never been taught the word "asylum" before, but I knew it meant something bad, not death but it could be something like torture.

I wished I could have screamed for help but mother pulled me out of sight into the house, I would have screamed if I knew what the word meant but being tortured all the time meant I probably thought it was a temporary dungeon.

Mother threw me in my room and locked the door.

I sat on my bed, mourning Cynthia, thinking what would have happened if I had died instead, maybe Cynthia could have been crying alone right now.

Probably not.

Mother would be there, comforting her making her feel better, taking care of her, that would happened if I were Cynthia. But I was not.

I suddenly wished that could happened to me. Then I wouldn't be alone right now, I wouldn't be rejected. Why couldn't mother care for me like she did with Cynthia? Maybe if I commited suicide, she would be happier, but no, I couldn't do that.

I stayed in my room for the whole day, but when I finally went to sleep a type of vision dream came up:

I was trapped in this dark room, a hellhole. But thorough the darkness I could see something horrifying, a girl, my age, strangled till her mouth was leaking blood, a man, muscular and blond, was leaning over her.

Drinking her blood.

This was the worst death scene I had ever witnessed. The girl, her face screwed up in terror and shock, was cut in messy long lines, gore leaking through it, the man was truly evil, doing something like that. I had heard the story of vampires, and how they killed and drank blood from their victims. Yes, he was exactly like a vampire. He turned a few seconds after I had thought that sentence, and gave me the most malicious look in the eye that I ever experienced.

I woke up screaming.

It was still dark outside, my hair was messed up from tossing and turning at night, I looked into my vanity, and my eyes had red circles over them, I looked tired and underslept, it must have been an awful dream them. I thought about father for a minute, he was so unlucky to turn ill, not being able to move and having to be fed by tube. I missed him.

So I decided to sneak out, besides, if I were really going to leave home for a long time, I'd better say goodbye to him, it was going to be a really long time before I got to see him again. The hospital wasn't very far from home, and mother would never find out about this. Walking would take 5 minutes.

When I got there, father was in bed, he had tubes in his nose that any normal girl would find disgusting. I didn't. He had all the normal tools taped to him but he didn't look normal, he had purple bruises all over him dark circles under his eyes, something that a beaten person would look like. I started to talk to him, of course he couldn't hear me but I did it anyway. I started telling him about all my secrets, including the vision I saw of myself dead. I ended the story with "Cynthia died today." That's when I stopped talking, if he could hear me, he would cry too. I wish.

When Father was healthy, me, Cynthia and him would always sit under a tree and talk about the future, Cynthia wanted to be a lawyer, like dad, I wanted to sing, But what was the point of trying to achieve both of those? Cynthia lost her life, and I was at the verge of losing a good future I planned for myself, and the dream I had, would I be just like that girl and die like my sister? But Dad could never understand my problems again being this ill. Again, I wish. Really, couldn't I just stop wishing and start working this out? I knew that would be hopeless. I had no power, trapped in a world of confusion and my own visions, my family just fell apart, I was about to be shipped off to some unknown asylum, and worst of all my visions were turning me toward the wrong directions I wanted never to go to.

I thought this sentence all the way to home.

The next morning, I was off. Mother and I were going to drive to the asylum, four whole hours away, somewhere in Mississippi , I kept wondering how I was going to survive there. Would an asylum be like a school? I didn't think so. Maybe a military camp? I didn't see myself carrying guns, plus, I wasn't a boy.

When we got there, mother kicked me out of the car. In the front of the asylum was a young, pale man. He guided me in reassuring me it was going to be okay?

Really? He was so nice, and I thought that maybe this wasn't going to be a bad place, maybe mother had sent me here out of sympathy, maybe she was being a little kinder, besides, how bad could things be?

It would prove to be alot worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Arrival

Something was wrong.

The man greeted me in my mother's sight, but as soon as we got inside the building, he knocked me over and dragged me across the floor, yelling to the blonde headed receptionist to give him my room keys. He kept dragging me until I eventually fell on my face. I was still too confused to even scream, even to give a little yelp.

What was this place?

Why was he dragging me? Did he think I was insane? Was somehow being physic insane? How could I answer the millions of questions in my brain now? Was this mother's punishment?

After being dragged, the grabbing started, still, with no nerve to scream, I was wrestled all the way to a cold, pitch-black room, no one could hear the man's yelling through the soundless walls now. When we were out of sight, with nobody to see us, I was thrown into darkness.

Darkness.

The door shut behind me. That's when I started to kick and scream, I wanted to get out! It was so dark, I couldn't see corners, It was scary, The air was filthy and I smelled that out instantly. Couldn't I go home! This couldn't be happening!

I fell asleep again.

I didn't know if it took a few hours for me to fall asleep, or minutes, there was no clock or sun I could see, only blackness. If I had my own list of the worst days in my life, today would be one of them. I desperately thought I should have ran away before I left. The thought would have made me happy, if I wasn't trapped in this hellhole, dirty and hated by Mother, who was possibly at home right now, or at Cynthia's funeral. A funeral I could never attend.

Oh no.

The thought of Cynthia's funeral started to spiral into another horrible vision I never wanted to encounter. The hallucination, was a water tank completely filled up with a lid on top, sealed shut. Inside this certain tank was another girl, different from my last dream, and smaller. She was drowning, screaming and pounding on the durable glass when a gunshot came and shot her in the head!!!

" Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I was out of the room for sure now! Hung upside down from the ceiling, hands tied up, feet tied up too, below me, a girl of my age staring at me. I screamed again.

" WHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

She said this: " What's wrong with you goose? Your in a insane asylum! Shape up!"

"What! Who are you?!"

" Elizabeth Walker, your asylum neighbour!"

"What am I doing up here?"

" They are going to whip you today! It won't hurt so bad though, compared to the other things they'll do to you!"

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to meet you, they let in here, I'm new too, like you!"

I could hear footsteps, coming to whip me, I guessed. I examined this Elizabeth, Light Brown hair, grey eyes and a deep red mouth. Pretty. She looked about a few inches taller than me, probably a 5'3 compared to my height, which was a tiny 4'9.

That minute, an asylum worker came in with a sharp, metal whip, tapping it in his hand like a professional circus performer, while Elizabeth was pushed-passed to another worker.

" It won't hurt so much." She whispered as she was escorted to another room. Back to her cell. After, the worker finally stopped tapping the whip and lashed it at my back 3 times. Did that hurt? Just as Elizabeth said, not much. I was whiplashed in the head next, which probably went out of Elizabeth's pain scale.

"OOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!"

"Shut up!!!!!!" the worker yelled.

"It hurts!!!"

" Oh please! your just a whiner baby!"

That wasn't so horrible, getting whipped in this asylum was probably the least of my fears, the very bottom of my list of horrors, maybe not even on the list at all. To me this whipping felt like a comedy, with me screaming phrases of "ow" "eeee" and "That Hurts" Overall, I could forget this tomarrow, it was so mild and not a huge deal, maybe I thought wrong last night, was this really a bad place? Whipping never would be awful, even if the whip was solid metal, I've been through worse. Elizabeth could never be right about the phrase "Compared to all the other things they could do to you!" What was worse here than a mild whipping? There was a very good chance this was just a mental hospital, people trying to cure people. Maybe they were trying to whip us into shape first. Either that or I was stupid out of my wits. Then what was that dark room for? Maybe to test how insane we were? Was that the answer to that?

Could it?

I had been in the asylum for a week after that, getting whipped again every morning, eating, thrown back in the room. Like a routine. Luckily, I found an open window there leading to the next cell, that's where I talked to Elizabeth, or Lizzy, as I called her. We would chat for hours on end. Topics on families, hobbies, fun. I told her about Cynthia and her death. And my visions.

"She died?!"

"Yes"

"I'm so sorry! What was she like?"

"Black hair, like me, but with grey blue eyes."

" Hmm, how about what you think of this place?"

" It's okay."

That's when Lizzy started to crack up.

"What's so funny?!"

Lizzy cracked because she thought I was stupid. Her explanation, was how her mother told her that asylums at this time, were supposed to be horrible, dark places. The "dark places" part I got, But I didn't see how bad this place could be.

We talked through the night.

It was morning, and the first thing I thought of was Elizabeth's words, "Dark and horrible" yea right. She had been here for the same time as I had, and did she see anything bad? Nope. She was darn wrong.

Midday was alot better than the past 7 days, no whippings! That was a miracle! and I was actually allowed to go freely outside my cell! With supervisors of course, and me and Elizabeth talked more, now about hobbies. I seemed to forget Cynthia already, my family's problems and my visions. This was one of the happiest days in my life.

After a few hours, we were escorted into a small, tiny room and asked to wait for an hour. They said "Were getting some supplies."Wow, an hour? How long would it take these people to get "supplies?" Talking and talking was my one resort to tuned in.

"How long will it take them to get supplies?"

"You sound like they're retarded."

"Yea."

"But maybe they aren't just getting supplies."

"How would you know that?....

When the hour was finally up, men with wires came in. Wires? What were they going to do with those?

To tie us, whip us, strangle someone?

I quickly found that answer.

Because the moment they saw Elizabeth, a Blonde haired man wrapped her neck with the wire, pounded her against the wall, and started to choke her. Two men behind me grabbed my arms and dragged me out. Through the window I could see the vision I saw, the girl, getting her blood drunk. The men behind me were unaware of this. I was screaming, and punching the bulletproof windows. Inside, Elizabeth didn't even make a sound, she was in a coma, as I guessed. As the men with me pushed me in my cell again, away from Lizzy, away from light, I realized something.

The week here was a masquerade, a fake surrounding. The workers had made it seem to me that this was a mild, normal place, But when the new patients were happy and content, they started to torture them, throw them in a dark, abused life.

And today was the day I found what asylum meant.

It was a place where insane people went. But in my case, it was also a place where people with supernatural powers went. The patients were put to the extremes and hurt. Torturing the patients were a doctor's way of "curing" them. They had killed Elizabeth in front of me and thought that would help me endure the pain.

Wrong.

Elizabeth was my friend, and killing her would mentally hurt me. Now, I felt lost. How could the doctors do this?

The answer: Blindness.


	3. Chapter 3

Lecture

Her friend got strangled. Poor girl.

I had watched Mary Alice for several days now, watching her every move. How she ate, how she slept, even how the men beat her. Such an unfortunate soul should never be treated like that!

But I had no right to say that, for I had killed many in my life as a vampire. A dreaded, awful creature who hid from the sunlight by day, and hunted for blood by night. Who had a sister that ran away from him. Who was crazy. Who is me, Alex Bay walker.

And then Mary came. When she did, I suddenly felt hope. Like I could resist my urges to drink so much, like I was with an angel who came down from heaven to help me fight the beast inside of me, to let me, one day feel victory. I was sorry to have been the one to drag her to her doom the week before, and because? As she looked up at my angry eyes, my awful expression and my mad frown, I felt like I was staring down at a saint.

Now, it's dumbfounded me, and made me extremely fond of the child, maybe even in love, as I wanted to apologize to her when I had the chance.

So this was my agenda for today. All I had to do was persuade Mr. Hawker, the manager and CEO of the asylum, to make Alice's stay here a little more comfortable. I would tell him how hard it was for people to live in a world of pure torture, and how "Curing someone" in this place was actually killing them. Hawker had to understand this, for he was proud of the methods of treatment in this lunatic institution and a heartless man. He needed to know about his cruelty.

"Hello Mr. Walker."

I had almost ran into the office, eager to tell the boss about my ideas and thoughts about captivity and torture. But, when I came in, he sounded like this was a casual little chat! "For an idiot." I muttered under my breath. It was harsh, yes, even for me, but he knew better than to stare blankly at the air when his accountant charged in on him. Not even a moron would do that. "Now Alex," he asked me, "What brings you here?"

A moron, like I had said, a pure moron this man was.

Thinking about it made me angry, how he treated people made me angrier. Really, who did this person think he was? A King? That, made a whole cloud of mad, mixed words fly out of my mouth;

"Why the hell do you have to treat people this way?! You're torturing them! Is this a place where they get killed?" The sentences blasted out of me like a siren, like a big boom, "I thought an asylum was for curing the mental! Really? Cause you've turned it into a hellhole! Get what I mean? A massive, disgusting, HELLHOLE!!!!!!!!"

Now Mr. Hawker didn't understand this.

First, what I was saying to him was a gigantic jumble of nonsense.

Second, in his twisted mind, right and wrong had switched around. The "wrong" was letting the mental live in healthy surroundings, to let them go free of their dark, lonely cells and to treat them like normal humans. Human, I thought, as the word mixed with "blood" in my head, and created "Human Blood".

Oh no. I was going crazy again, and so, I shook the phrase out of myself before it would mess me up further.

Now, the "Right" in Hawker's mind was to torture them, make them forget themselves, let their minds become filled with suffering and pain, which was exactly how bad he was, and how unlawful.

Our conversation heated up again.

"Now Alex, why would you use such language? This is a hospital that has helped patients for 52 years! I am proud of the talented doctors here, and your hard work at creating files for me. At this institution, we do not "torture" people, but instead we offer them methods for their insanity." He paused for a moment. "Which is why I am going to show you what I mean" Then how? I thought.

Mr. Hawker seemed to read my mind.

"A little tour perhaps."

He led me down a little hallway, stopping at the side of a large window, in front of, ironically, a large room. All you had to do was look inside and discover the horror in front of you.

Now I probably wasn't the only one to see this.

A little boy, about 8 or 9, strapped to a chair, screaming. With 2 surgeons bending over him, they stabbed his eyes, over, and over again! I had to cover my nose, because his eyes were gushing a tremendous amount of blood and gore, so much that it actually started to make me sick. Fluid splattered on the tiled floor, moving slowly toward the door. I couldn't stand this! And my thoughts were directed to the manager. That awful man!

He noticed my horror."Now Alex, don't be horrified. This is the right way to treat a patient. The only way. We let our patients feel the pain so they can get used to it, and when they do, they can go free."

It didn't look like anyone would get used to that.

By evening, I had seen enough of the gore. Girls stabbed, hair pulled off by a scalpel, throats cut, skin sanded off….. ugh, it was too much to bear, and so much blood to resist! I would be lucky if I had just killed the little boy! But there was one more thing I had to look at.

Alice's dead friend.

Mr. Hawker had sent me with Robbins, the foul man who had killed her, with me. As much as I wanted to scream at Robbins, Hawker had said that it was only an "Accident", and he should not be blamed.

Not be blamed huh? He looked smug, what a liar.

As we entered the room, the first thing I saw was a wooden coffin on a metal table. Which made me feel awful for her. She must have been in horrid pain when Robbins killed her. Which made me think… That evil little-

"Hello???" Robbins was waving his hand in my face, disturbing my thoughts. When he was done, he started to pry open the small coffin, which made me wonder, who did this person look like? I visualized my runaway sister, Elizabeth. She had the most beautiful red mouth and grey eyes. But that was pure nonsense, Elizabeth wasn't mental, so she surely would not be in the coffin. But….. as Robbins opened the box,

It didn't seem like nonsense anymore.

I could feel my eyes go blank as I saw that it was Elizabeth in there, and I knew that my imagination had run too deep. Too far down. Elizabeth had her eyes closed, with a metal cord pressed into her neck one inch deep. Her skin was a pale grey like her eyes, and blood was drying on her shirt. The lips were still as red as I remembered them, which was my proof that she was dead.

But I had no time for grief. No time for mourning this.

Robbins had to pay. He had to die. This was no accident.

He seemed to sense what was going on. As I turned around, he squeezed himself into a little corner. Coward. Really? He wasn't so much of a coward when it came to killing someone's sister? So why was he being one now?

"Don't do this Alex. Please."

"You don't deserve to live."

"Why are you doing this? I didn't know that was your sister?!"

"Ahh, a mind reader. Well, even if you didn't know, you still had the nerve to kill someone right?"

I stalked toward him. Closer, Closer….

"I'm sorry,.. sorry!!!"

"So it is….. it's no time for that…..DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Snarling, I lunged at him. Robbins screamed 2 octaves higher than me, enough to make the guards to come running. I couldn't care less about that, they could come all they wanted and be like little ants to my strength. Enough of that thought, I had to finish what I had started.

I crushed Robbins's chest, sending sweet blood flying at my face. Slamming him into a wall was my next step, enough to make the screaming stop entirely mid-air. I killed him when I slit his throat with a surgical knife on the next step.

3 steps, how easy. Killing was easy. Getting blood was easy.

Blood.

There was no hope for me now, all I could see now was the delicious, red fluid over the dead Robbins, and the more I was exposed to it, the more reason not to resist anymore. I didn't care about Alice anymore, the blood was so sweet.

And revenge was so sweet.


End file.
